Swallowsrest

Into the unknown

Epiphany 2011

Matthew 2:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of God in whom our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you. Amen.

David Jenkins, formerly Bishop of Durham, gave a series of lectures in the late sixties on the nature of Jesus and the nature of humanity. In setting the scene he says in part: “The act of faith is not consciously or explicitly a Christian one. It simply involves a readiness to believe that there are areas of human experience and avenues of human knowing which are worth exploring with openness, perseverance and hope.  We do not have to know in advance what we have to be open to, nor what we are persevering for, nor what we have hope of. But we have to believe that openness, perseverance and hope are proper and, indeed, demanding possibilities for human beings and we have to act on this belief. Such action will demand patience.  We shall have to be patient in pursuing investigations far enough to allow the course of the investigation to disclose whether or not it is fruitful.”[1]

Too often the word “faith”, especially in the religious context, has been employed to suggest unquestioning belief in something that is otherwise unbelievable or irrational. When a person doesn’t understand something – in particular with regard to religious belief, they are often told that they must simply take it on faith. Such a presumption has the dual effect of dismissing as unimportant a person’s inquiry or concern and also of denying, and ultimately destroying, the curiosity which gave rise to the question. It assumes that the journey’s end is fixed and constant and that one can get there only with closed eyes and mind shut.

It is true that there is a great deal within the realm of Christian belief which is, at first glance, incomprehensible and that there are some things which we take as truths or which we believe to be true on the basis of experience or on the testimony of others. That does not mean that, as a matter of faith, we should put to one side all manner of inquiry, for faith that does not retain an openness to possibility is not faith at all. “Faith” which assumes the status of certainty is no longer faith, but a stagnant confidence in a state of affairs created entirely by human imagination.

The idea of faith as exploration is a useful one. Faith is not an end in itself, it is a means to an end and even the end is vague and un-definable. The end of faith is not able to be neatly packaged and defined but remains a mystery to be discovered and unfolded. In faith, we approach our goal not knowing what it really is, but trusting that we will discover what we seek when finally we reach our journey’s end.

Faith then is not an end but a beginning. It derives from a sense that there is something more to life than what we see around us. It emerges from dissatisfaction with the material world and a restless yearning for a deeper and more meaningful existence. Faith is an openness to new experiences and to new ways of being. It is a willingness to be led by the spirit into new dimensions of existence and new ways of knowing. Faith is not a rigid conformity to the known but an exploration of that which is, as yet, unknown. It is an adventure which leads us through the vicissitudes of life until we come at last into the presence of God.

Today we celebrate the coming of the magi – those mysterious characters who follow a star to find a king. In taking the star as their guide, they were able to suspend, at least for a time, their need for certainty and assurance. On the basis of very scanty information, they were willing to step outside all that was familiar to seek out something about which they had only a very little real knowledge or information. Their curiosity, their willingness to look beyond the surface, their openness to new experiences, their ability to allow themselves to be led and their refusal to be waylaid brought them at last into the very presence of God.

Their ability to be open to the experience and their trust in the journey rather than in its outcome, meant that even when their journey did not end where they expected – in a palace, surrounded by wealth and power -they did not lose confidence but simply sought more information before setting out again. They did not begin with pre-conceived ideas, but rather, sensing that something important lay ahead, they kept on searching until they had discovered what and where it was. They were not disheartened or surprised when they found that which they sought in the most humble of circumstances, nor did they think their journey wasted or their gifts unnecessary. The end was simply as they found it, not as they had imagined it to be.

The journey of faith is somewhat similar to the journey of the magi. Beyond a few generalized hopes and expectations, we have no definitive road map and no absolute certainty as to what lies at the end of the journey. Though we have our scriptures and the words of the wise who have gone before us, we like the magi must day after day step out in the faith that there is more to life than we can see and more to death than the grave.

If the nature of God is always just beyond our reach, then the nature of faith is to retain an expectant openness to what God might reveal to us, a hopeful eagerness to learn more, a courageous willingness to let go of the need for absolute certainty and an ability to live with the tension of incompleteness. To do otherwise is to reduce God and Christianity to a set of reproducible formulae, to confine God to what is known and knowable, to remove the spiritual dimension from faith and to be content with only that which can be seen and felt and described.

Our journey of faith is an exploration of the unknown, a quest for meaning and a longing for God. If we have the confidence to let go of certainty and to embrace the uncertainty of the journey, we like the magi, will come at last to the only place in which we are truly at home – safe in the eternal presence of God.

Christmas 2010

Marian Free

In the name of God who did not despise the human condition, but embraced it, took it into himself and transformed all that is flawed and imperfect. Amen.

I’d like to share with you a poem which was read to us at General Synod by Clare Amos. The poem is by Michael Goulder.

Exceedingly odd,

Is the means by which God

Has provided our path to the heavenly shore:

Of the girls from whose line

The true light was to shine

There was one an adulteress, one was a whore.

There was Tamar who bore –

What we all should deplore –

A fine pair of twins to her father-in-law;

And Rahab the harlet,

her sins were as scarlet,

As red as the thread which she hung from the door;

Yet alone of her nation

She came to salvation,

And lived to be mother of Boaz of yore;

And he married Ruth,

A Gentile uncouth,

In a manner quite counter to biblical law;

And of her there did spring

Blessed David the King

who walked on his palace one evening,

and saw

The wife of Uriah,

From whom he did sire

A baby that died, oh, and princes a score.

And a mother unmarried

It was too that carried

God’s son, and him laid in a cradle of straw;

That the moral might wait

At the heavenly gate

While the sinners and publicans go in before,

Who have not earned their place

But received it by grace,

And have found them a righteousness not of the law.

(Michael Goulder – sourced from a Bible study at the Anglican General Synod, 2010)

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth begins with a record of Jesus’ ancestry. Matthew’s genealogy is unique – not only does it include five women who break the pattern of x was the father of y, but four, if not all five have questionable pasts. As the poem highlights, the list includes a woman who slept with her father-in-law, a prostitute, a Gentile who got into bed with a man she hoped would marry her, an adulteress and an unmarried mother.

No one really knows why the first four of these were included – was Matthew aiming to shock, to get our attention? Was he a closet feminist who wanted to highlight the role women played in bringing Jesus to birth or did he want to demonstrate the inclusiveness of the gospel? We’ll never know the answer, but whatever Matthew’s intention, the genealogy makes an important point about the Incarnation and about the way in which God works.

By including the four flawed women in his genealogy, Matthew demonstrates that God chose to enter the human condition not in purity and holiness but in all its frailty and ordinariness – choosing among those who would bring him to birth, the vulnerable and the not-so-squeaky clean. Jesus would not have truly reflected human nature if he had not embraced it in its entirety – the good and not so good. Jesus is not some super-human demi-god, but is really one of us – and his ancestry illustrates that. What is more, by becoming as the creed says, “truly human”, Jesus demonstrates once and for all that the fallen human condition is NOT beneath God’s notice, is NOT unworthy of God’s presence and is NOT unable to realize the divine nature within it. God doesn’t appear to take on human form. God really does become fully human, God really does become one of us – accepting for himself a heritage which truly illustrated the imperfections of humanity.

The other side of the anomalous genealogy is that Matthew’s use of the harlot and the prostitute reminds us of God’s ability to see beyond externals to a person’s true qualities and potential. Throughout history, God has used flawed and damaged people to do marvelous and wonderful things. God does not look for perfection in those whom he chooses, but for an ability to be faithful. So he chooses a murderer to lead the people out of Egypt, an adulterer to be the most famous king of Israel, the person who denied Jesus to be the leader of the early church and the person who persecuted Christians to be the most passionate and successful missionary. I could go on. Throughout history many whose lives and actions have transformed the world have had flaws that would lead to their exclusion in a world which expected perfection. Sometimes God chooses the most fragile and unreliable of natural resources from which to make the strongest, most effective and most faithful of disciples.

In becoming one of us, God demonstrates that though frail, human nature is capable of great things, and in choosing a flawed ancestry, God demonstrates that even those who are imperfect can contribute to the divine presence in the world.

The Incarnation is so much more than the baby. It tells us of God’s acceptance of and love for the world that he has made and of his confidence that despite its weaknesses and blemishes it can and will achieve great things.

Advent 4 2010

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

In the name of God, who was not afraid to take on human flesh to save the world that he had created. Amen.

As you were listening to the gospel, I wonder if you thought to yourself – something’s missing here. If you did you were absolutely right – many of the things we associate with the birth of Jesus were not mentioned – mangers, shepherds and more. If you didn’t notice something missing, you would have done what we all do – that is you would have heard this as the story, just as on another occasion you would have heard the shepherds and manger as the stor. It is possible for all of us to hear and/or read the accounts of Jesus’ birth without noticing that there are in fact two quite different stories – one in Luke’s gospel and one in the gospel of Matthew. In popular imagination however there is only one – the one in which Gabriel appears to Mary, Joseph has a dream or two, the couple go to Bethlehem and after the birth of the child are visited by first the shepherds and then the Magi. Two different stories have been conflated into one in our minds and in the popular imagination.

Only Luke and Matthew even record Jesus’ birth. Apart from the virgin birth which must be a very early tradition, Matthew and Luke tell the story quite differently. Matthew begins with the genealogy of Jesus. He is keen to confirm that Jesus is both the Son of God and the Son of David. Having established the latter through the genealogy, Matthew moves to demonstrate how it is that Jesus is the Son of God. Mary is “found to be with child from the Holy Spirit”. “The child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” Joseph’s son, the son referred to in the genealogy is by this reckoning also the Son of God. Matthew’s account is quite sparing and gives Joseph, not Mary, prominence. Mary is dispensed with quite early without having been addressed and without any attempt to explain her situation – how she found out she was pregnant, what she thought of the situation, whether or not she saw or heard an angel and whether or not she was surprised by what was happening. The annunciation of Jesus’ birth is made to Joseph not Mary, as is the command to name the child who is to be born.

Matthew is addressing a Jewish Christian community. It is important that he demonstrate that faith in Jesus is not only consistent with the Old Testament but that it is a continuation of that story. Matthew makes this point in a number of ways. The genealogy begins with Abraham – the founder of the Jewish faith and it continues through the line of David from whom the Messiah was said to come. Jesus’ conception is described in a similar way to that of the patriarchs and judges. Furthermore, the annunciation by the angel is consistent with Old Testament annunciations. The angel appears to Joseph and communicates Jesus’ birth, name and identity in much the same way that the angel spoke to Abraham. What Abraham is told: “Your wife shall bear you a son and you shall name him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant” is much the same as what Joseph is told: ‘She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” The formula: “bear a son” is repeated three times, as is “call… a name”. “She will bear a son .. you are to name him Jesus.” “The virgin shall bear a son and they shall name him Emmanuel – God with us.” “Until she had borne a son and he named him Jesus.”

Matthew is clearly concerned, not only to make the link with the Old Testament but also to make Jesus’ identity clear to his readers. Jesus is a version of the Hebrew Yeshua or Yeshu which are shortened forms of Joshua which means “God saves”. The second name, the name in the prophecy is an unusual choice, but it is one which fits a theme running throughout Matthew’s gospel. In “Emmanuel” or God with us, the past, present and future join together seamlessly. The one who is announced as Emmanuel is the same one who is present with the community now and the one who will return at the end of time. The story of Jesus is present and future tense as well as past. The Jesus whose birth is announced is the same Jesus who concludes the gospel by saying: “I am with you to the end of the world.”

The Old Testament annunciations include the person’s name and role. Jesus’ role is to: “save his people from their sins”. A formula that sounds familiar to our ears was in fact quite foreign to Jewish and Old Testament expectation. A saviour would set people free from oppression, someone sent by God would convict people of their sins. A saviour who would free people from their sins is a Christian view, an interpretation of the life of Jesus after the fact. At this point, Matthew breaks with the Old Testament to reveal something new about the person of Jesus – he will save God’s people from their sins. The removal of sin will be by grace and not by any effort on the part of the people.

Matthew’s short account concludes with Joseph’s compliance with the angel’s instruction. In words that are almost exactly the same as those the angel spoke to him Joseph takes Mary as his wife, she bears him a son and he names him Jesus.

It is clear that the tradition of the virgin birth is very early and that both Matthew and Luke use that tradition as the basis for their re-telling the story of Jesus’ birth. Thereafter their accounts are very different. What is important for us, is not so much trying to work out who is right and who is wrong but to listen to the voices of the evangelists, to look beyond the stories to the communities to whom they are speaking and whom they represent and to try to discover what the early church looked like and how it made sense of the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Jesus, Emmanuel is God with us – God as a living presence in our community in our day and age. Our experience of God with us is formed and informed by the experience of the early Christian community, their records of Jesus’ life and teaching and their interpretation of the same. We cannot take ourselves back to the first century when Jesus walked on earth, nor can we put ourselves into the earliest communities as they tried to make sense of what they had experienced during the life of Jesus and were continuing to experience as a result of knowing the risen Jesus. What we can do, through prayer, bible study and worship is to maintain an openness to the presence of God, develop a willingness to be informed by that presence and a readiness to respond with grace to God’s call on our lives.

Advent 3 2011

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who constantly surprises and refuses to be contained. Amen.

Most of us have been brought up to believe that the expectation of a “Messiah” was fairly standardized expectation in the Old Testament and therefore of the first century. After all, doesn’t Jesus fulfill the prophecy of the Old Testament. I’m sure that if asked most of us could draw up a list of criteria that the Messiah was to meet and which came together in Jesus. For starters, he was to be a descendant of David, born in Bethlehem of a young woman or a virgin and raised in Nazareth. He would heal the sick and give sight to the blind and he would to suffer and would die.

In fact, Jesus’ life holds few surprises for us because we are sure that everything that happened was predicted by the prophets. We would be surprised then to discover that the Old Testament has a wide variety of expectations for the future, only some of which can be seen to come to fruition in Jesus. The prophets variously expected a king, a warrior, a priest, a suffering servant, a son of man or a son of God to appear as God’s anointed. In some prophecies of the future there is no human saviour for God alone is the redeemer of Israel. The writings of Qumran demonstrate that not one but two messiahs were expected to come – one priestly and one to lead the eschatological battle. At least one of these was expected to have descendants.

The word for Messiah – the Hebrew “meshiach” or anointed is not very useful in this quest for a clear definition of a Messiah. God’s anointed is primarily someone chosen by God. Before 500BCE the expression referred only to historical figures and not to someone expected in the distant future. The word Messiah (anointed) was used for priests and for the kings of Israel. It was also applied to Cyrus, the king of Babylon who was chosen by God to take the Israelites into exile.

The expected role of a future messiah also varied over time. In some instances it was expected that God’s anointed would come to judge the earth and to inaugurate a new and heavenly age. In others, the messiah would bring about an earthly restoration of Israel and of the Davidic line of kings. The messiah would alternately destroy the Gentiles or bring them to faith.

At the beginning of the first century the concept of the “messiah” was still quite fluid. There was no one set of criteria which could be ticked off to prove that Jesus met the description of the “one who is to come.” At this time a number of revolutionary groups called their leaders “messiah” and the Jewish people seem to have had no problem accommodating a variety of different groups under the one umbrella of Judaism. No wonder then that few people recognised Jesus as the messiah and that even John the Baptist needed some sort of reassurance that Jesus was indeed who he, John, thought he was. So John sends his disciples to ask: “Are you the one who is to come?”

John who had declared that Jesus would baptize with fire wants to know whether this gentle miracle worker is indeed the one whom he had announced. Which of the boxes did Jesus tick? How many of the criteria did he meet? Jesus responds to the question by listing the things that people can see that he is doing – the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers^* are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. Jesus identifies his ministry with the things that Isaiah claims for the future in the today’s reading. He is not a warrior or a king, but he is clear that his ministry is consistent with at least some of the Old Testament expectations.

It is easy to be critical of those who failed to recognise Jesus during his time on earth, easy to convince ourselves – as the gospels do – that Jesus’ ministry was so obvious that no one could fail to see and to know who he was. We, however, have the benefit of hind-sight AND we know the end of the story. WE know about the Jesus through the gospels which were written nearly thirty years after the resurrection. In that time the early community has been able to gain some perspective on the events of Jesus’ life and to see how that life did indeed fit a pattern that was consistent with at least one strand of the expectations found in the Old Testament prophets. In the light of the resurrection and with the help of texts such as those from Isaiah, the evangelists are able to make sense of Jesus’ humble birth, to come to grips with his failure to raise an army and confront the occupying forces, to absorb his critique of the Judaism of his day, to accept his association with the unsavoury members of society, to understand his submission to the cross and to demonstrate how all this was consistent with the expectations of the prophets.

First century Jews at the time of Jesus had no such advantage. To those who did not recognise or understand him, Jesus must have seemed deliberately obtuse, intentionally confrontational and perversely unconventional. He broke the law and criticised the leaders of the church. He made no attempt to be accepted by or acceptable to institutional Judaism. No wonder that some asked: How could this be someone sent by, approved by God?

We might know the end of the story, but that does not give us an excuse for smugness or complacency. If Jesus was not universally recognised in the first century, there is no guarantee that we will recognise him in the 21^st. One of Jesus’ roles was to confront all those who thought they understood, but did not. His task was to open people’s eyes to see things as God saw them, not as humans saw them, to stand with and for the oppressed even when that was an affront to the establishment. He provided comfort and hope for the vulnerable, but caused disquiet for the confident and the self-assured. In this century it is just possible that we will be among those who are affronted and disquieted were Jesus to come among us.

In our journey of faith, it is important to remain open and alert, to refuse to allow ourselves to settle into one way of seeing things, to avoid the sort of confidence that blinds us to new experiences and revelations and to constantly question our prejudices. In Advent we look backwards to Jesus’ coming and forward to Jesus’ coming again, may the experience of that first coming, inform our expectation of the second so that nothing will so surprise us that we turn our backs on what we do not understand, or close our minds to that which we did not expect.

Keep awake, for you do not know the hour at which he is coming. Keep alert, because you cannot be sure that you know what to expect.

(The last three sermons have taken a while to upload mostly because All Saints was in the form of rough notes and was written immediately before a holiday. It is now more coherent and the recent sermons have been uploaded in order of delivery.)

Advent 2

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God whose presence demands self perception, honesty and integrity. Amen.

When I was a child, my parents used to tell me the story of the Queen’s visit to Nigeria sometime in the 1950’s. Apparently  a great flurry of activity preceded the visit. This included whitewashing the walls of the houses so that they would look at their best. This was a great idea except that it didn’t actually benefit the residents of the houses as only one wall of each house was whitewashed – the wall that would be visible as the Queen drove past. Apparently, it was more important that the Queen was given a false impression of the prosperity and attendant neatness of the town than that she see it as it really was. A similar situation occurred in Glasgow though I don’t know when. On this occasion the buildings remained unpainted, but beautiful flowering plants were delivered to the tenements along the route that the Queen would take. After the Queen’s visit they were promptly removed – the brief bit of colour in the people’s lives taken away again. In both cases the powers that be felt that the Queen not be exposed to the poverty and bleakness of the lives of her subjects in these places.

On a national scale that sort of behaviour demonstrates a lack of integrity. City Councils and national governments put on a front to impress a visiting Head of State or other dignitary. It is not just the Queen who needs to be impressed. Tourists too, get the benefit of this sort of whitewash. Every time there is an EXPO or a World Cup, states and nations are accused of hiding (sometimes to the point of removing) the poor – who are perceived to be a blight on the landscape and should not be seen.

When nations behave in this way we accuse them of hypocrisy and worse, but when we as individuals do it, it is a different matter altogether. I imagine that there are few of us who do not want to make a good impression on those who do not know us well. I do not suppose that I am the only one among us who tries to tidy the house and even the garden when guests are coming. Doors can be shut and furniture rearranged so that those who are visiting can be led to think that the house is always tidy and clean. Likewise, when we meet someone for the first time, we are anxious to prove that we are clever enough, attractive enough or even funny enough to be worth knowing. (We are terrified that if people see us for whom we really are, that they might not like us.)

It doesn’t matter that those closest to us see the untidy house, the “just woken-up” face, experience our changes in mood and, see us at our worst as well as our best. What matters it seems, is that acquaintances and complete strangers think the very best of us. Our lives, by this measure are filled with deception and fraud. The deception is two-fold. We attempt to deceive by pretending to be what we are not, and we deceive ourselves, because we believe that our deception is working when in fact most people can see beyond the façade and those who know us well, know all our faults and failings.

When the Sadducees and Pharisees came to John for baptism he saw through and denounced their self- deception. “You brood of vipers,” he declares. Hardly the welcome that they might have expected! After all, they were not only among the religious elite – the priests and scholars of Israel, but they would have felt that they were exhibiting a certain amount of humility by coming out to John in the first place. John however does not believe that their desire for baptism is anything more than outward show. John can see past their status in society and their appearance of goodness to the hypocrisy and self-righteousness that lies beneath. He sees that they do not really acknowledge that they need to repent. They might be doing what they believe to be right, but their outward appearance disguises a certain self-satisfaction and an inability to recognise their shortcomings.

John urges them to recognition their need for repentance. He challenges them to be open and honest with themselves rather than depending on externals such as their descent from Abraham. They need he believes to stop their self-deception and to understand that their very arrogance prevents them from seeing their weaknesses and their failings. At the same time he makes it clear that God can see what they cannot and that if they won’t examine their lives, Jesus will do it for them and he will rid them of all that is not good.

Jesus also sees through the veneer of righteousness presented by the Pharisees and confronts their hypocrisy: ‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of the bones of the dead and of all kinds of filth. ²So you also on the outside look righteous to others, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.”(Mt 23)

It is easy for us to be smug when we hear John and Jesus attack the Sadducees and the Pharisees, easy to think that they were bad and deserved Jesus’ censure. Before we pass judgement however we need to remind ourselves that the Pharisees are not being denounced because they were bad, but because they were good or appeared to be good. The problem was that in their attempts to be good they had lost sight of their faults. By naming their hypocrisy, John and Jesus challenged them to engage in some honest self-reflection, to have the courage to peel back their superficial appearance of goodness,  to have a good look at what lay beneath and to make an honest assessment of who and what they were.

In our day we need to remember that no amount of whitewashing and no number of flowering pots can hide our true nature from God. Instead of keeping up the pretence, it is better to open our lives to scrutiny. If we do not like what we see, then it is almost certain that God will not like it either. Instead of pretending that our façade adequately covers our faults, it is better to bring them into the light of day, where we can see them more clearly and make an effort to address them instead of burying them. We may not be able to change, but we can try not to add to our sins the sin of self-deception.

John declares that Jesus will come to separate the wheat from the chaff.  We do not want eternity to be spoiled by arrogance, greed, self pity, intolerance. Those and every other negative character trait are all things that we hope will be left behind. The process of separation may be painful, but if we learn now to trust God with our lives, if we are open and honest with ourselves, there will be no surprises when at the last God removes from our lives those things that do not belong in heaven.  It is not that God expects us to be perfect – for only God is perfect. God expects us to trust in God and not ourselves, and to allow God to make us ready for the kingdom., for an eternity that is not blighted by the worst of human nature but enriched by the best.

Advent 1

Matthew 24:36-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who forms and transforms us so that we are fit for heaven. Amen.

^“Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day^* your Lord is coming.” In the light of what precedes these words – reminders of the flood, warnings about one being taken and the other being left – it is not surprising that many people experience a sense of dread about the coming of the end. Some people in fact are so terrified that, nearing their life’s end, they are unable to sleep – literally keeping awake – so afraid are they that God will find them wanting and sentence them to an eternity in the fires of hell. On the other hand there are many who, with little justification other than a belief in their own goodness, are quite confident that they and all whom they know and love will attain heaven when at last their time has come.

“Therefore you must be ready for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Being ready and awake probably lies somewhere between the extremes of terror and complacency. It would be absolutely nerve-wracking to spend a lifetime constantly looking over our shoulder wondering what God thinks about what we are doing and asking ourselves how God will judge us. On the other hand, it is unwise to be over-confident, to assume that God is indifferent to how we think and how we behave. The ends of this continuum – anxiety and self-satisfaction have this in common – both those who live in fear, and those who live without any concern at all have unwittingly made themselves equal to God. In judging themselves they have made their judgements the equal of those of God, they have presumed to know the mind of God. Both positions are dangerous and, while confidence is easier to live with than anxiety, neither allows for a true assessment of oneself and of one’s suitability for heaven.

C. S. Lewis is a theologian whose writings have had a profound affect on my own spiritual journey, particularly in relationship to the vexed question of how one prepares. In his book The Great Divorce, Lewis explores in an imaginary way what life beyond the grave might look like. He envisages that the dead enter a dreary, grey existence. There is a bus which offers some escape, but those who take the bus and return have nothing good to say about the place from which they have returned. Those who have the courage to risk the journey find themselves transported to a beautiful grassy field across which they are expected to walk. Again a risk in involved. Some who got there first are returning, complaining that the lush grass feels like needles to the feet. The brave step on to the grass which not as bad as expected, however as they cross the grass, they are confronted by ghosts from the past who taunt or terrify the new comers, so that some who so far were confident and struggle to continue, others find it so hard that they turn back. At last, the souls who have made it across the grass see a great crowd coming to greet them and to welcome them to the heavenly kingdom.

At this point in the story there comes a really poignant moment. One of the new comers who has made it so far, is a man whose wife nagged him mercilessly during her lifetime and whom he had, presumably, envisaged a future in which she would be judged and found wanting. In turn, his suffering at her hands would at last be rewarded. Imagine his shock and consternation when among those running to greet him is his wife – arms stretched out to embrace him, as if all that has happened between them had been of no account. She is filled with joy at seeing him, all vexation has long since been forgotten. However, over the years the man has stored up so much resentment, has so nursed his disappointment and his hurt, that even in this new environment and even though he sees that God has found a place for his wife, the man is rooted to the spot. He simply cannot open his heart to accept his wife’s welcome. He cannot even in this place of joy and peace let go of the past and he turns to go. God has not sent him away. The man has decided he cannot stay. If his wife can be in heaven, then heaven is not what he had been hoping for. At the same time, his pent up anger and resentment demonstrate that he is not ready for heaven.

In another book Mere Christianity Lewis expresses a similar concept in this way: “The point is not that God will refuse you admission to His eternal world if you have not got certain qualities of character: the point is that if people have not got at least the beginnings of these qualities inside them, then no possible external conditions could make a ‘Heaven’ for them – that is, could make them happy with the deep, strong, unshakeable happiness God intends for us.”[1]

What this says to me is that achieving eternity is not a matter of being good – that is not doing anything wrong, doing good deeds. Achieving eternity means developing now, in this life ‘a deep, strong, unshakeable happiness’ that pushes out all that is base and mean in us – a happiness that is not reliant on what we do or achieve in this life, a happiness that is not based on what others do or think, a happiness that does not put others down or measure itself against the behaviour of others.

If this is the case, then “being ready” is not a matter of being constantly on high alert waiting for God to reach out and strike us. “Being ready” is more a matter of imagining the heavenly existence and preparing ourselves for it. Readiness involves ridding our lives of all the characteristics that even we can see do not belong in heaven – envy, greed and hatred, but even disapproval and self-righteousness. Being ready means understanding God’s right to choose to include everyone who understands what God is about, everyone who is honest enough to acknowledge that they don’t deserve to belong, but humble enough to admit that they yearn to belong.

In reality, this kind of readiness is much more terrifying than the alertness which waits in fear for God to appear from nowhere and strike us down. It is frightening because it demands honesty and self-examination. It is unsettling, because it threatens our sense of identity and asks us to forsake our ego. It is disconcerting because, rather than asking us to do something, it asks us to stop doing and to accept what God is doing in us.

“Therefore you must be ready for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” In order to be ready we must stop striving for worldly goods and values. We must stop building our own identity and instead allow God to be formed in us. We must seek the deep peace, joy and happiness that come only from God. We must have the courage to see ourselves as God sees us, and the humility to allow God to transform us into what God would have us be. Then regardless of whether we have reached a state of perfection, we will have begun to gain an understanding of God and of the nature of the kingdom and though imperfect still we will be ready to be perfected and will find ourselves at home with all the other imperfect human beings who will inhabit with us that place where there is only peace and joy and harmony.

All Saints 2010

Marian Free

In the name of God whose presence is around and in us. Amen.

(Notes for a sermon)

I want to tell two stories this morning

There is a story about a monastery which, like many monasteries of its times was struggling to attract new members. As a result the community was fractious and filled with discontent. There were not enough people to do the daily tasks so everyone felt put upon and everyone felt that no one else was pulling their weight. Into this mix came a visitor – a stranger who was passing by and needed shelter. The stranger joined in with the activities of the monastery for a few days. When it came time for him to leave the stranger announced that during his stay he had received a revelation from God. It had been made known to him that it was to this community that Christ would come when he returned to earth.

Well, you can just imagine the anticipation and anxiety that followed the announcement. Of course, the community would have to be ready for Jesus’ return – not just physically but spiritually. Members of the community began to grumble less and to go about their chores with more grace than had been seen for some time. What is more, their attitude to each other changed. If this was the community into which Jesus would come, perhaps he was here already.

No one mentioned their fears, but the life of the community changed dramatically. Every member of the community treated every other as though they were Jesus himself. Everyone became considerate and thoughtful about the needs of others, no one complained about how much work they had to do.

The second story relates to a Parish in which one of the churches was dedicated to All Saints. One year, to celebrate the festival of All Saints the children made crowns (the symbol of All Saints). During the service the crowns were presented to everyone in the church and everyone, old and young, joined in the spirit of the day and wore their crowns throughout the service. It was a marvelous sight to look out at a congregation of crowned saints and to be reminded that in the early church the term saint was not reserved for particular people, but was applied to all believers.

The two stories are quite different, but in my mind they are connected because both relate to how we, especially we in the church, see each other.

When Paul writes to the members of his congregations he calls them all saints without discrimination – the good, the bad and the indifferent – they are all saints. If, according to Paul, we are all saints, and if, as the first story reminds us, Jesus is present in us all, we are challenged to see each other differently. As with the monks, we are confronted with the notion that everyone else in the community is Christ, and everyone in the community is a saint.

All of us are here because we have glimpsed in some small way the saving grace of Jesus and the boundless love of God – that makes us saints. It doesn’t automatically change our brokenness and vulnerability, being saints doesn’t make us perfect just those who are on our way to being perfected.

But – if we are all saints, and if Jesus is present within each of us – then we should treat each other as saints and as if Jesus himself were truly present. Such respect, such tolerance of each other’s foibles would truly make us into a remarkable community, a community on which others would comment and a community so filled with love and peace that others would want to join.

This is already a community of love and care. May the saints at St Augustine’s be so formed into the image of Christ and of the saints of old, that those who know us may say as Tertullian said of the early church: “Those Christians  – see how they love each other.”

Pentecost 22

Luke 18:18-30

Marian Free

In the name of God whose radical unfairness, challenges us to rethink our sense of justice. Amen.

There is a song by an Australian band called Moving Pictures which became one of our family anthems. The chorus goes: “What about me? It isn’t fair, I’ve had enough now I want my share.”  You can almost hear these words coming from Peter in today’s gospel: “What about us? It isn’t fair, we’ve left everything and we want our share.”

Peter has been eavesdropping on the conversation between the ruler and Jesus and it seems that he simply has to interrupt. His childish sense of justice gets the better of him. If the ruler must sell everything to inherit the kingdom, then surely he and the other disciples are home and hosed. However he is not entirely confident, what if after all everything they have done is not enough? Peter wants to make sure that Jesus has noted disciples’ commitment and sacrifice and that he can tell them that what they have done will be enough. “Look, we have left our homes and followed you.”

Peter’s statement is very direct: “Look!” he says. Peter is demanding Jesus’ attention. He is drawing Jesus focus away from the ruler and bringing Jesus’ attention to himself. His insecurity is obvious for everyone to see. He sounds very much like an attention-seeking child: “Look at me, I can do it too. Look at me, I’m special too. Look at me, notice me. See how much I have done for you. It’s not fair, I’ve done just as much, I deserve a reward as well.”

One of the things about the apostle Peter is that it is very easy to identify with his humanity – his impatience, his failure to understand, and, in this instance his need for everything to be fair. Children in particular have a keen sense of justice. Anyone who has ever been a child and anyone who has been a parent knows only too well the refrain: “It isn’t fair – she started it, he got more than me.” and so on. Peter is concerned to establish that God is fair – that God has certain criteria which must be met and that if one meets them one’s place in the kingdom is assured. If as Jesus has said to the ruler, the criterion is to sell everything then surely he (and the other disciples) have well and truly fulfilled the criteria – they have left their homes and followed Jesus. Peter thinks in terms of comparison – am I as good as or better than someone else? Peter is concerned about what is fair – if that person gets into heaven because they have done such and such, then if I do the same, then so must I. According to Peter’s sense of justice, there must be one rule, one criterion, one set of standards for entry into the kingdom. In his view of the world there must be one size which fits all.

The problem for Peter, as for us all, that there is not one set of criteria that fits every situation and every person. Jesus demonstrated over and again that sets of rules were inadequate to provide an accurate guide as to who would and who would not enter the kingdom of heaven. People like the Pharisees who relied on the law often found themselves the victims of Jesus’ harshest criticism. Dependence on the law as a measure of righteousness often had the affect of creating a legalistic mindset which was unable to see beyond the rules to exercise the kind of compassion and understanding which the law was intended to foster. Reliance on the law provided a false sense of security, it led people to believe that they could earn credits by behaving in a certain way whether or not their hearts were really in it. On the other hand, Jesus reveals that the most surprising people, people who do not obey the law in the conventional sense, who will enter the kingdom of heaven. Tax-collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom of heaven first.

There is no one size fits all. God sees into the hearts of all of people and understands their motivations. God knows when the law-abiding among us hide their sins of disdain for others, their arrogance and their self-assurance. Likewise God knows that many people who do not fulfill the letter of the law, show in their lives humility and generosity of spirit which no law can enforce. Comparing ourselves against others, measuring our goodness against the failings of others demonstrates not only our failure to trust in God’s judgement, but also a blindness to our own faults and a lack of compassion for the weaknesses of others.

The ruler who comes to Jesus has a commendable amount of insight. His is not a superficial faith. He is aware that even though he obeys the law, something is missing in his relationship with God. He comes to Jesus, not to boast about his achievements, but to ask what more he should do. Did he think that Jesus would make him feel better by saying that he was doing enough? Did he hope that Jesus would simply encourage him to enhance his prospects of eternal life, by adding prayer and fasting to his law-observant behaviour? What we do know is that Jesus’ suggestion that he sell all that he owned and give the money to the poor was not an answer he expected and that it was not something he felt that he could do, at least not in the present.

The point is that the commandments alone were not sufficient for the ruler. Jesus perceived that what he needed was a complete re-ordering of his life. He needed to share God’s compassion for the poor and the outcast instead of hiding behind his rule-observant behaviour and taking no responsibility for the suffering in the world. In the same way, there was not rule or law that could assure Peter of his place in the kingdom. Peter would have to examine his own life to discover what was missing. It’s not fair, there is not one rule that fits all, Peter’s story is not the ruler’s story, the ruler’s story is not the basis for or the measure against which the success of Peter’s story can be determined. Nor is it necessarily the basis for, or the gauge against which our lives will be measured.

What must I do to inherit the kingdom of God. Each of us must ask our own question of Jesus. Each of us must examine our own lives to determine what is missing in our own relationship with God. Each of us must be open to the answer that we are given. It isn’t fair, there isn’t one size that fits all. The good news is that we won’t all be asked to sell everything and give the money to the poor. The bad news is that being good isn’t enough. God asks that we give nothing less than our all.

Pentecost 21

Luke 18:1-17

Marian Free

In the name of God who is attentive to our prayer. Amen.

What do a widow, a tax collector and a child have in common? I don’t know. If I was a comedian, perhaps I could come up with a clever line – you know: a widow, a tax collector and a child walked into a bar, or a widow, a tax collector and a child were in a boat. However, I’m not a comedian and don’t know where I’d go from there.

Today’s rather long gospel contains three distinct stories, the widow and the judge, the Pharisee and the tax collector and Jesus’ welcome and commendation of the children. At first glance, it is impossible to find anything in common between the three accounts; however a closer look reveals that in each story, it is the outsider who is shunned by someone in authority, who becomes the centre of Jesus’ teaching. The widow who is ignored, the tax collector who is despised and the child who is pushed away, all become the model for what it is that Jesus is trying to teach.

To Jesus’ listeners, it is no surprise at all that the judge ignores the widow, the Pharisee compares himself favourably with the tax collector and the children are shooed away from Jesus. In first century Palestine, this is exactly what might have been expected – widows had little to no social status, tax collectors had aligned themselves with the occupying forces and children were simply the property of their father (of little consequence at all). However Jesus takes his listeners by surprise. He turns each of the stories around so that those who are excluded become the models for those are confident of their place in the kingdom.

All three stories are used to illustrate the overarching theme of the section which is introduced in the opening sentence of chapter 18: “Then Jesus^* told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.” The link between the three disparate stories is how to pray – how to pray in the time between now and the end, how to pray in the face of persecution, how to pray in such a way that is in accord with the kingdom of heaven and how to pray if you think that you already know how to pray.

Three aspects of prayer are emphasised in these stories – patience, humility and receptivity. In the case of the widow, God is not being compared to the unjust judge who only reacts when violence is threatened (the greek word is “give me a black eye). On the contrary, the focus in the parable is the woman’s patient, constant prayer – even in the face of obstruction. The Pharisee illustrates all that good prayer is not. Prayer is a way of opening oneself to the presence of God, of listening and responding to what God might have to say. It requires humility and openness rather than arrogance and overconfidence.

The Pharisee is not necessarily a bad person. In fact, he fasts and he gives a tenth of his income, both of which are commendable practices. However, he is too sure of himself and to busy telling God how good he is to worry about how good he is not. Prayer for him consists of a litany of the failures of others and of self-commendation. He doesn’t need God to justify him, so convinced is he of his own value and righteousness.

In contrast the Pharisee is the tax-collector who is not necessarily a morally bad man, but someone whose occupation is considered a sin. His circumstances in life, may dictate that he needs this kind of work to provide for his family. The tax collector comes before God only too aware of his shortcomings and of his need for God’s mercy. His focus is not on himself but on God.

The simplicity and trust of the tax collector’s prayer are further illustrated by the account of the children who are brought to Jesus. We are to understand that young children are wide-eyed and expectant. Unless they have been unlucky, they have not yet learned to be cynical and distrustful of the world in general. Their openness, trust and receptivity provide a model of the attitude that everyone should have towards God: “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” The attitude of the children is in stark contrast to the disciples whose rigid application of the law has led them to play God.

Jesus uses the unexpected and those who are not respected, to get the attention of his audience and to make his point loud and clear. Prayer is not simply a matter of repeating set formula, it does not require a curriculum vitae of one’s virtues and good deeds, it does not need to be sophisticated and above all, it does not belong solely to the righteous, the reputable, to those of good standing, wisdom or experience, but to all who with patience, openness, self awareness and expectancy turn to God in good times and in bad.

So even though her situation is desperate, the widow remains confident in her cause and so does not give up. The tax-collector is aware that he is a sinner but trusts God enough to pray anyway.  Children simply believe that they will be welcomed and heard and bring to prayer innocence and a confidence in God’s love for them. In contrast, the judge simply doesn’t care, the Pharisee’s overconfidence means that he doesn’t allow God to communicate with him, but uses prayer to tell God how things are, and the overzealous disciples believe that access to God belongs only to those of a certain standing or social status.

Jesus commends constancy, humility and receptivity and by using outsiders as his models he is reminding his listeners of the divine reversal that the coming kingdom will bring when those who are now on the margins will find themselves at the centre, when the poor will be blessed and the first will be last. Prayer then is a way of aligning ourselves with God’s way of doing things of preparing ourselves for the time when things will be turned upside down when those on the outside will have privileged access to the kingdom.

May our prayer be that of the persistent widow, the humble tax collector and the expectant child and may we never be so confident in ourselves and in our own righteousness that we fail to understand that God can choose whomever God wills to be part of the kingdom, that the wideness of God’s love and mercy embraces all people and that those of us who are privileged here, must expect that those who are not will be privileged in the kingdom. Amen.

St Francis’ Day

Luke 17:11-19

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to love even the outcast, the repulsive and those who are impossible to love. Amen.

There are many things for which St Francis is famous. Today we remember his love for and his ability to communicate with animals because it resonates with our own love for and relationship with the animals in our care. However, there is much more to Francis than his love for God’s creation. Among other things he gave up the wealth of his father’s household to follow Jesus and to rely on the generosity of strangers. He lived a simple life preaching the word of God to the poor. He showed Jesus’ love for the outcast. He took on the Pope of the day and tried to end the Crusades by speaking directly with Al-Kamil, the Sultan of Egypt. He gathered around himself a group of like-minded people, forming a brotherhood which still exists in a variety of forms today.

The model for Francis’ life was Jesus himself and in all that he did, he tried to emulate his Saviour. A story about Francis meeting a leper illustrates this point. He was, like most people of his day filled with not a little apprehension and revulsion when he saw a beggar who was also a leper in his path. Considering Jesus love and compassion for all, Francis forced himself off his horse and not only embraced, but also kissed the leper before giving him his own tunic.

Another story, recorded in Chapter 25 of “The Little Flowers of St Francis” goes as follows:

“It happened once, that in a convent near the one in which St Francis then resided there was a hospital for leprosy and other infirmities, served by the brothers. One of the patients was a leper so impatient, so insupportable, and so insolent, that many believed that he was possessed by the devil for he ill-treated with blows and words all those who served him; and, what was worse, he blasphemed our Lord and his most holy Mother, that none was found who could or would serve him. The brothers, indeed, to gain merit, endeavoured to accept with patience the injuries and violences committed against themselves, but their consciences would not allow them to accept blasphemy, so they determined to abandon this leper, but this they would not do until they had signified their intention to St Francis. On learning this, St Francis himself visited this perverse leper, and said to him: “May God give thee peace, my beloved brother!” To this the leper answered: “What peace can I look for from God, who has taken from me peace and every other blessing, and made me a putrid and disgusting object?” St Francis answered: “My son, be patient; for the infirmities of the body are given by God in this world for the salvation of the soul in the next; there is great merit in them when they are patiently endured.” The sick man answered: “How can I bear patiently the pain which afflicts me night and day? For not only am I greatly afflicted by my infirmity, but the friars thou hast sent to serve me make it even worse, for they do not serve me as they ought.” Then St Francis began to pray most earnestly for him. Having finished his prayer, he returned to the leper and said to him: “My son, I myself will serve you, seeing you are not satisfied with the others.” “Willingly,” answered the leper; “but what can you do more than they have done?” “Whatsoever you wish I will do for thee,” answered St Francis. “I wish then,” said he, “that you wash me all over; for I am so disgusting that I cannot bear myself.” Then St Francis heated some water, putting therein many odoriferous herbs; he then undressed him, and began to wash him with his own hands, whilst another brother threw the water upon him, and, by a divine miracle, wherever St Francis touched him the leprosy disappeared, and his flesh was perfectly healed also. On this the leper, seeing his leprosy beginning to vanish, felt great sorrow and repentance for his sins, and began to weep bitterly. While his body was being purified externally of the leprosy through the cleansing of the water, so his soul internally was purified from sin by the washing of tears and repentance; and feeling himself completely healed both in his body and his soul, he humbly confessed his sins, crying out in a loud voice, with many tears: “Unhappy me! I am worthy of hell for the wickedness of my conduct to the brethren, and the impatience and blasphemy I have uttered against the Lord.”

In this account, the leper, overwhelmed by the goodness and mercy of God, becomes aware of his own pettiness, his self-absorption and his failure to trust in God’s love. His response to his external transformation is remorse and inner transformation. Having experienced first hand the great love of God and he realises that not only has he done nothing to deserve such love, but just the opposite. In great humility he turns to God in gratitude and penitence. When he dies his soul appears to Francis saying:”I am that leper whom our Lord healed through thy merits, and to-day I am going to life eternal, for which I return thanks to God and to thee.”

Leprosy was (and in some places still is) a disease that was treated with revulsion, fear and suspicion. Sufferers were segregated from healthy members of the community and forced to live on the charity of others. Not only were they isolated physically but also emotionally as they became objects of disgust and horror. In the days before medical science had developed a cure, healing was seen as something of a miracle and it meant not only an end to suffering but a restoration to society, to one’s family and friends.

The story of the lepers in today’s gospel quite extraordinary – ten are healed and restored to their communities yet only one of the ten returns to say: “Thanks” and of the ten it is the least expected – the Samaritan who, despite his healing remains marginalised and excluded. The one who from his position of exclusion, knows how much he has received, is the only one to return to give thanks. The others, it would appear, take their healing as their right.

We must be careful, who are on the inside, we who are not marginalised by disease, poverty, race, religion, ability or lack thereof, employment or any other condition need to beware lest our very respectability, the blessings which we take for granted, cause us to become complacent, to take for granted the blessings which God has so richly bestowed on us.  Every morning when we wake we have cause for thanksgiving and every evening when we fall asleep we have reason to offer thanks to God. Every hour of every day we have reason to thank God for all God’s gifts to us. Let us not be like the nine, but take as our model the one who knew what he had received and who responded by giving thanks.